


Don't Be Fiona

by MeganWrites



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: (mostly), Bipolar Disorder, Canon Compliant, Drug Addiction, Multi, alcohol and drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 01:37:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3750109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeganWrites/pseuds/MeganWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It wasn't Frank, wasn't Monica; it was me."</p><p>Lip tells her that it's not all her fault.</p><p>Fiona doesn't believe him. She's done shrugging off blame, she’s been doing it for too long now and it’s time to accept responsibility. She’s going to be better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Be Fiona

**Author's Note:**

> This took forever to write and there is so much more I wanted to add but it already feels so clogged up.
> 
> Okay, so this is basically just my slight justification/wishes for what Fiona was going through from 4x12 to 5x07. I started writing after 5x06 and found the rest of the season didn't work so well with what I was going for... so it's not included. Also, Vee and Kev are missing :( But there was not much in the way of Fiona and Vee interaction this season so that's partially why. Debbie's early season storyline not included for reasons of me not being able to stomach writing that. Sorry. Okay, and Charlie is Jeffery Dean Morgan's character from 4x12 and kind of what I had (very naive) hopes that he would be in Fiona's life. (The sheer number of Fiona's love interests this season was so difficult.... tagging them all really put that front and center) Pretty sure I got the s4 quotes wrong too... whoops.
> 
> I still feel kind of iffy about this, and I'm not sure it got exactly what I was going for across but hopefully you give it a chance and maybe don't totally hate it.

_"It wasn't Frank, wasn't Monica; it was me."_

Lip tells her that it's not all her fault.

Fiona doesn't believe him. She's done shrugging off blame, she’s been doing it for too long now and it’s time to accept responsibility. She’s going to be better.

 

 

-

 

 

Get up, make breakfast, go to work, go to NA meeting, visit Ian, go home, make dinner with Debbie, study with Carl, give Liam a bath, call Lip, go to bed.

Rinse and repeat.

A schedule is oddly therapeutic.

 

 

-

 

 

Charlie's the type of person you need to prove yourself to. He supervises closely and rarely talks, more of a self-described observer. Fiona appreciates that about him, it feels almost normal to have a boss expecting her to prove she's worthy. Almost normal is pretty nice after the shit she went through.

Fiona scrubs counters, jokes with customers, gets good tips and return customers asking to sit in her section. She loves the job, it's the most she's enjoyed work since working in Meg's clubs.

Still, Charlie doesn't crack.

Fiona tells him a joke one day about two weeks into the job, just some dumb joke that Liam told her, and is blessed by seeing Charlie smiling and laughing. He’s got the best smile, warm and comforting and bright, and Fiona finds herself unable not to smile back.

He slings an arm around her shoulders, giving her a tight squeeze and mussing up her hair a bit. “You’re alright, kid,” he says and walks away still chuckling to himself.

Time starts to pass quickly and soon Charlie is laughing and joking with her every day. He teases her when she flirts with boys and looks out for her when customers are assholes (or said boys become creeps). She talks to him when the days get hard, when she can hardly stand to look at Liam because the guilt is too damn much, when all she wants is to run away. He doesn’t say much when she talks, just lets her dump all her problems on him (she might have cried once but she’ll be damned before she admits that to anyone), and listens.

Fiona’s never really had anyone like Charlie; someone with more experience, someone a little bit wiser that she can lean on. She thinks maybe this is what it’s like to have a big brother, or a dependable father, someone she can just fucking lean on for a second without feeling like she needs to be stronger.

Sometimes hours will go by, but Charlie stays sitting next to her, patiently listening to every miniscule problem she feels like she just can’t handle right now. Then, once she’s finished, he puts a heavy hand on shoulder and says, “You’re doing great, Fiona. Take it one day at a time, kid, it’s going to be okay - you’re going to be okay.”

And Fiona lets herself believe him.

 

 

-

 

 

The first time Fiona visits Ian ends in a fight with Mickey (he’s too stubborn to let Ian get help, or maybe just too scared).

The second time Fiona visits Ian ends with Fiona barely holding back tears (because he’s so big but yet somehow he looks so damn small and Fiona’s scared too, God, she’s so fucking scared).

The third time, Debbie goes with her.

Debbie visits Ian the most, though Carl is close behind, and when she walks up to the Milkovich house it’s like she lives there. She opens the door and steps inside without knocking, waving to Mandy and Mickey’s wife, cooing at the baby, and then walking straight into Mickey’s room. Mickey’s in there for a bit at first, but he leaves them quickly with an awkward wave and a promise to return in about an hour.

Debbie just talks, sitting next to Ian on the bed and describing the last couple of days. Ian doesn’t move, but he also doesn’t tell her to leave.

Fiona sits on the bed beside Debbie, watching her little sister and smiling. They are there for longer than an hour, much longer, but Fiona still thinks that it goes by too quickly by the time they are leaving.

Fiona pulls Debbie into a tight hug as soon as they’re back out on the sidewalk, kissing her cheek and blinking away tears.

“Thank you,” Fiona whispers shakily. Thank you for coming with me, thank you for being so strong, thank you for knowing what to do with Ian, thank you for being you.

“Want me to go with you tomorrow?” Debbie asks.

Yes, Fiona wants her to come tomorrow.

 

 

-

 

 

Jackie is an inspiration.

(She’s a mid-reformation drug addict, yeah, but Fiona’s probably officially considered one as well since NA is mandatory to her probation. There’s no judgement when you’re all fuck up’s - that’s one of the perks of working at Patsy’s Pies)

She’s a mom, and the kind of mom that Fiona always wishes she had.

Jackie’s always bragging about her daughter. She talks about how pretty she is, that she likes to read and draw, shows off old drawings that she still keeps tucked away in a shabby old wallet. She shows off pictures, says, “Look at my baby girl,” with a wide smile and teary eyes.

God, even though Jackie’s daughter is in foster care, and even though Jackie fucked up so bad she hasn’t seen her daughter in months, Fiona thinks she’s probably someone to look up to. She’s tough and sweet, strong and kinder than anybody Fiona’s ever met.

She’s also got a wicked sense of humor - perfectly matching to Fiona’s.

Jackie tells her about the day she was arrested. She talks about being out on a bender for weeks, how she can’t remember a second of it, how her neighbours found her daughter breaking into their apartment just for some food. She cries - no, she sobs - and Fiona listens.

At first Fiona recoils, isn’t sure she wants to talk to Jackie anymore because that sounds so familiar to every day of her life. Frank and Monica off on a month long bender, Fiona and the kids scamming and stealing just to survive.

Then Jackie tells her about NA, all the differences it’s made in her life, how her sponsor has helped her and that she wouldn’t even risk smoking a joint if it meant she might never see her daughter again. She says, “If there’s only one more thing I can do in my life, I just want to make things right with her. I fucked up, but I think I can do better this time if they let me.”

And that’s it, that’s all it takes for Fiona to decide Jackie’s the type of mom she wishes she had. Because for all the times Frank and Monica fucked up, they never tried to make it better.

Jackie inspires Fiona to start forgiving herself. It’s a slow process but like Charlie told her: one day at a time.

 

 

-

 

 

Some days Fiona will look at Liam and all she sees are the paramedics strapping him into the ambulance. 

Or, his glassed over eyes as he lay on the kitchen floor, the way his hands felt too cold for his heart to still be beating.

Or, the way he was rushed into the hospital, so small and fragile and infinitely broken by Fiona.

Those are the worst days.

 

 

-

 

 

Seeing Ian up and walking around is like a giant weight lifting from Fiona’s shoulders. They made it past the depression; they’ve made it to a point where Mickey can’t lock Ian away from the reality of the situation. Things are going to get better.

They’re all going to get better.

“I’m not bipolar, Fi,” Ian says rolling his eyes tiredly as he digs through the fridge. “Just a little worn out, hadn’t slept for a while and probably too many drugs - guess it caught up to me.” He shrugs and walks away, like Fiona is just making a big deal out of nothing, like he didn’t just lay in bed rotting and starving himself for two weeks.

Fiona brings by pamphlets, talks about how maybe they should all get checked, just in case. Ian tells her she can if she wants, tells her not to worry so much and then he walks away. Fiona feels like she’s running out of options.

She invites Ian over for dinner one night, and maybe it’s not the best idea but everyone is there and it’s kind of an intervention. Ian just gets angry, and yeah, Fiona kind of knew that he would, but she’s so damn scared every day about what Ian might end up doing to himself.

Ian tells her to butt the fuck out of his life, stop putting all of her problems on him, that maybe she should work on figuring herself out before she starts passing out blame. He storms out without saying goodbye, too pissed off with all of them, and Mickey Milkovich runs out behind him – consistently validating Ian’s naïve belief that everything is fucking fine.

And just like that, the weight is back.

 

 

-

 

 

Charlie leaves a month after Fiona meets him.

He stops in to say goodbye and that he’s headed off to Seattle, he’s not sure for how long, tells her that his business partner Sean is going to take a bigger role in managing the place again.

Fiona nods, smiles, gives him a hug goodbye.

People always leave. She shouldn’t have expected more.

 

 

-

 

 

Sean looks a lot like Charlie, same solid build and dark hair, got that sort of rugged older man look going for him. He’s got fewer tattoos though, and his smile isn't quite as nice, eyes lacking warmth that Fiona misses. Fiona spends the first week Sean’s there resenting him.

He’s not Charlie, and for silly and childish reasons, that really pisses Fiona off.

Sean gets fed up and has a meeting with her one night, tells her if they’re going have a problem she needs to let him know, that he didn’t hire her but he will fire her if she doesn’t pull it together. Fiona’s sure it’s supposed to come across more threatening, but instead she just laughs.

It doesn’t occur to her that laughing could have come across badly until much later, not that it matters because it only takes a second before Sean is laughing with her. She teases him on his inability to reprimand an employee, he counters by telling her all he wanted was to get along with her and have a real conversation – mission accomplished.

Fiona finds out Sean isn’t like Charlie for a million other reasons too.

Sean’s a bit younger and a lot more of a flirt, which suits Fiona fine because she’s a bit of a flirt too. It’s just fun and casual at first, no big deal, helps the shift go by a little faster. Then Sean is talking about his son, Will, and inviting Fiona to meet him. Then Fiona is telling Sean about her siblings, bringing Liam in to work for a couple shifts a week, inviting Sean and Will for dinner.

The kids love him, he loves the kids, and Fiona feels fucking stable.

She realizes maybe she’s not just flirting anymore.

 

 

-

 

 

Fiona still feels like she's too fucked up, like she can't handle it anymore.

She feels like running, hiding, getting locked up.

She keeps it to herself until she's alone at night, bedroom door firmly shut and locked, and then she curls up into a ball and cries until she runs out of tears.

But she feels like maybe it's getting better, maybe she's getting better.

 

 

-

 

 

Angela is sophisticated and beautiful. When Fiona was a little girl she used to see women like Angela and feel envious, wanted to be fancy and classy like them but knew that she was never going to get that chance. Those feelings creep up once again when Angela sits down in her section, hair done up expertly and makeup simple and elegant.

“If I had known a waitress as beautiful as you worked here I never would have bothered with anywhere else,” Angela says smoothly before Fiona can get a word out, and fuck, Fiona finds herself suddenly very charmed.

Fiona smiles sheepishly and they talk for a few seconds more, Angela asks for pie - Fiona’s favorite  - and spends the rest of her time in the diner watching Fiona. She’s mysterious and gorgeous, and Fiona should probably be a little freaked out but honestly she just likes Angela. She likes how Angela smiles at her and looks at her like she’s something stunning.

Jackie walks up and pinches her sides, nodding over at Angela and grinning, “She’s hot, Fi, better scoop her up while you can.”

Fiona just laughs and continues serving, then once Angela is gone she finds a hundred dollar tip tucked next to the plate. Fiona grins and tells her co-workers, feeling like today is her lucky day.

She hopes Angela comes back, tells herself it’s because of the amazing tip and not because maybe she’s a little intrigued.

 

 

-

 

 

Of course, Angela does come back.

She’s there every week, on the exact same day at the exact same time.

Weeks pass and Angela becomes a strange piece of Fiona’s stability.

 

 

-

 

 

Carl sits at the kitchen table and doesn’t say a word about his leg until Fiona yells at him to do the dishes. She sees him trying to stand and gripping the table tightly, not just favoring one leg but completely keeping pressure off the other.

Fiona’s got him sitting beside her in Kev’s truck before Carl can even claim that he’s fine.

Carl tells her on the drive that nothing really happened, he was just skateboarding, having a contest with his friends that got a little out of hand, but that it’s not that bad - just a sprain. Fiona glares at him, snapping, “I’ve seen sprains before, Carl, you broke you goddamn leg is what happened.”

When they get to the emergency room there’s a wait, and that means Fiona and Carl are stuck in the waiting room for God knows how long. Fiona hates it, she can’t help it, Gallagher’s hate hospitals more than anyone. Nothing good comes from hospitals; just Frank getting his stomach pumped, Frank almost dying, Monica having another baby they can’t afford, Monica in the mental health ward, Monica with slit wrists on Thanksgiving.

Hospitals just make Fiona fucking nervous.

She knows that it’s just her and Carl here and that it’s only because of, at most, a broken leg, but she’s still nervous.

She reaches out and holds onto Carl’s hand without thinking about it, because hospitals are one of the few places that Fiona lets herself really need someone to hang onto. Carl squeezes her hand and smiles when she looks over at him.

God, he looks like Lip or maybe Ian - kind of a combination of them both. He’s so much older now, so much older than she remembers him getting and it shocks her a little bit. Because here is her baby brother, holding her hand and giving her a comforting smile like he understands - and he probably does understand, that’s maybe the most shocking.

In that moment, Carl’s got a broken leg and is probably going to have a shitty summer because of it. He’s a little nervous, maybe a little scared, and probably really pissed off.

And yet, Fiona’s not protecting him - he’s protecting her.

 

 

-

 

 

Sometimes Fiona selfishly wishes Lip was never accepted into College, that for some reason it didn’t work out and he had to stay home.

Things always worked so much better when Lip was standing by her side, and when Ian was standing on the other: the three of them against the world, against their parents. Struggling and working hard together, making sure that Debbie, Carl and Liam always had food and shelter.

Her little brothers.

She misses them every day, and while she selfishly wishes Lip didn’t get into College, she also selfishly wishes that Ian didn’t have Mickey.

Fiona never says anything, feels terrible for wanting to rob them of their happiness, but fuck; she just really wishes they hadn’t moved on with their lives.

Lip coming home for the summer will have to do. She hugs him and teases him, reveling in the comfortable feeling of having both her brothers back at her side during a family dinner. Hugs them both tightly at a late night pool party, one arm over each their shoulders and grinning from ear to ear.

She wishes summer could go on forever.

 

 

-

 

 

The ankle monitor comes off, a literally weight being lifted, and Fiona looks in the mirror and feels like herself.

She hasn’t felt like Fiona for a long time now, but finally the version of herself from prison is fading away.

She makes circles with her ankle, admiring the pale line of skin that’s been hidden for so long.

She feels free.

 

 

-

 

 

Fiona starts her new freedom by asking Sean on a date.

It’s not a big deal, except it is. Fiona likes him, a lot. She likes how he’s a bit gruff and grumpy but still smiles and laughs and has fun. She likes that he understands wanting to leave the past behind and becoming a better version of himself. She likes that he has a son and that he gets along with all her siblings. She likes that he’s easy to talk to and that she can talk to him about her problems without getting any judgement.

She just likes him, and she knows he likes her, and she feels like this is the day things start to turn around.

Except he runs away from her like a fucking child.

And then he comes into her house looking like he just went through the fucking ringer just to say, “You’re dangerous-”

And then, “Chaos follows you around-”

“You’re a Chaos junkie, Fiona-”

“Women like you-”

“You’re a slippery slope-”

She’s stable. She’s stable and lives on a schedule. She doesn’t party, she takes care of her siblings and she’s being a better person.

“I’m not just chaos, I’m better, I’ve changed,” Fiona says, quietly - nervously.

He sighs, dragging a hand through his hair, “I hope you keep coming to the meetings,” and then he leaves.

 

 

-

 

 

She’s not chaos when she takes her underage sister to a bar to go dancing.

She’s not chaos when she leaves Debbie for ten seconds and then looks back to see her being groped by some pervert.

She’s not chaos when she punches him the face and runs away.

She not chaos when she coaches Debbie on having to learn to run in heels.

But then she stops, crouched on the ground and taking a few deep breathes, and maybe she is chaos.

She remembers a time not too long ago, running from a club bouncer with Vee and Jimmy. It didn’t seem so bad back then.

She looks over at Debbie, sees her eyes full of wonder - star struck by this wild world that Fiona has built her life into; drawn to the adrenaline, the dancing, the drinking, the fighting, and the running. Debbie’s leaning against the wall and grinning, ready to dive in headfirst.

Fiona wants to warn her; don’t do it. Don’t dive in, that pool is made of concrete and the only way to stop is to shatter on impact.

But somehow Fiona feels like she’s already lost her.

 

 

-

 

 

Davis is an asshole, but an asshole Fiona kind of liked. She thinks it probably wasn’t Davis she liked, not specifically anyways. She’s pretty sure it was just that he was cute, he flirted, and Fiona was starved for some kind of sexual encounter.

But he was an asshole - is an asshole.

Gus isn’t though.

It strikes Fiona as pretty strange that such a sweet guy like Gus can be friends with such an asshole like Davis. Maybe they balance each other out, make some sort of middle ground for the band to stand on. Who fucking knows, it confuses that shit out her.

Fiona likes Gus though, he’s funny and nice. He reminds her of Mike, but with a little bit of an edge that she always seems to crave.

He asks her to go for coffee, but she has to say no. He jokes and teases her, so sweet and funny and calm. Fiona laughs and can’t help herself from feeling so naturally drawn to his easy nature.

So she asks, “Okay well, what about tomorrow?”

And he smiles and says, “Yeah, sure.”

 

 

-

 

 

Mike was boring, yeah, but he was nice and he was stable. He brought out the suburban side in Fiona, and maybe it was mostly bullshit, but she also did more good for the kids in the few months she was with him then she did in years.

She had a respectable job, a steady relationship, and she caught up on fucking bills.

Fiona wants to be stable; she wants to be someone the kids can look up to.

 

 

-

 

 

Music is Gus’ passion. He plays more instruments than Fiona’s ever heard of, plays in three different bands (when he isn’t doing his own solo stuff), and singing comes more naturally to him than speaking.

It’s just one of the reasons Gus comes from a completely different world than Fiona. He’s had the opportunity to turn a hobby into his life, and Fiona admires him for that and she envies him for that.

Usually this would be the point that Fiona would feel a distance between herself and her boyfriend - like there’s a distinct issue and she knows that it just won’t work. Except with Gus she finds that she just clings tighter to him.

He’s everything she’s ever wanted in a guy. He’s nice, he has a job, he doesn’t lie to her, he isn’t boring, and he’s steady. There’s nothing about him that’s unsure and chaotic. He’s nothing like Fiona, and Fiona thinks that’s probably why she likes him so much.

A week with Gus is like a week she stole from someone else’s life. She doesn’t remember the last time she’s smiled so much - maybe in the summer before, or maybe back when Jimmy still lived with her. It feels good to smile again, to laugh again, to feel young and stupid and in love.

She never wants to stop, she wants to smile and laugh with Gus forever.

He says, “Did I mention that I’m falling in love with you-”

Fiona’s startled but she’s not scared, she thinks maybe she’s falling in love too, and the next day she says, “You make me feel sane, and I want to be around to all the time.”

She rambles and he asks, “Do you want to get married?”

Fiona grins, plays along, “I’d marry you.”

That afternoon their grinning like crazy, standing in the courthouse, Fiona in her club dress and Gus in a pair of jeans and a button up, exchanging vows.

She says, “I do.”

And suddenly she’s no longer Fiona Gallagher.

 

 

-

 

 

The last thing Fiona expected to see was Jackie collapsed on the ground with a needle in her arm. She isn’t sure why, she knows that Jackie is a drug addict, knows that she’s stressed and scared because she might be getting her kid back.

But Fiona just never thought this would happen.

She heard the way Jackie talked about her daughter, saw how strong and determined she was to be better and to do better.

God, Fiona got half her energy just from Jackie’s determined spirit.

And now she’s in the hospital, just barely alive and possibly headed back to prison as soon as she’s released, maybe home if she’s lucky. Fiona just can’t wrap her head around it, can’t understand what happened to make Jackie snap and decide she needs a fix.

“But she was clean for six months,” Fiona says.

“Fuck it, that doesn’t matter. My first thought when I saw Jackie lying there; I wanted to grab the syringe and see if there still left.”

He pauses for a moment, lets Fiona absorb, then; “Being an addict, that’s for life, Fiona,” Sean explains quietly, harshly, like she’s a child who can’t possibly understand.

And maybe she can’t, not quite in the same way at least.

But it scares her to think that sometimes you just can’t get better, that some problems don’t go away no matter how long and hard you work to make them better.

She’s just not prepared for that.

 

 

-

 

 

“Going back to school,” Lip says, acting casually but she can see that’s not all.

He makes excuses, tells her he’s just going to help set up for freshmen orientation like he actually gives a shit about rich college shitheads.

“Are you okay?” Fiona asks.

He hesitates, “Yeah, yeah, you know, I’ll only be a train ride away.”

Fiona tries not to let it show but she’s crumbling. She’s missed Lip so much more than she thought she could miss someone. Maybe it’s because of his rejection in the winter, or maybe it’s just because she didn’t realize for so long how much she needs him.

But she’s not ready for her little brother to leave yet. She’s not ready to say goodbye because she thinks this might be the last one.

Not because she’ll never see him again, but because she doesn’t think he’ll be coming back home again.

She reminds herself this is what they all always wanted for Lip - to see him leave fucking Canaryville and make something of himself. To go to college, get a degree, get an incredible job, make some good money, and be fucking happy (and maybe Fiona hoped he would inspire the other kids too).

It still feels too soon, too final, too painful. She hugs him tightly and hides her face in his shirt, scared to let go and let him go.

But he does leave, waving and hauling a garbage bag full of clothes over his shoulder. She’s happy for him, she really is, because Lip’s always been meant for something better than this - better than her.

She just hates that Lip moving forward in life means leaving her behind.

 

 

-

 

 

Fiona grins when she sees Angela sitting in the same booth as usual, dressed to the nines with her hair done up. Fiona had been worried that after their last conversation Angela wouldn’t come back, but is happily surprised by her return.

“You came back,” Fiona says cheerily, walking up to her table.

“I did.”

But that’s not Angela. Not Angela who came back, not Angela who is speaking.

Fucking Jimmy.

Fiona thinks her heart may have stopped beating for a second, her brain short-circuiting and for one fucking second - she can’t even feel angry.

“Can we talk?” Jimmy continues, moving to stand up beside Fiona.

And then the second is over and all Fiona can see is red.

Fucking Jimmy. Her boyfriend, her best friend, the love of her fucking life, lying piece of shit runaway asshole - Jimmy.

“Outside,” she grits through her teeth, because they can’t be in the diner when she breaks his fucking jaw.

 

 

-

 

 

Ian stole a baby, Mickey’s freaking the fuck out, fucking Jimmy had to show back up, and Fiona doesn’t have an idea of what to do. She tries to stay calm, tries to breathe and figure her shit out.

She’s stable and calm.

She needs to be stable and calm.

She clenches her jaw and goes back into work to grab her bag. She leaves Jimmy out on the street, bleeding and spitting and crouching by the gutters. Good, she thinks, he can fucking stay there.

She calls Lip first, explains to him what’s happening and hopes to God that maybe Ian’s running to him. She rushes home to check there, even though she’s sure Mickey would have checked there first. She takes a deep breath and gets ready to spend the rest of the day running around Chicago looking for her little brother.

This is exactly what she was so fucking scared of.

She searches everywhere close by - anywhere she can remember Ian have even the slightest fondness for, and she keeps looking until Lip gets into the neighbourhood.

“You find anything? Any hints as to where he went even?”

Lip shakes his head, “Checked a couple his hiding spots from when he was last gone too - nothing.”

The Milkovich house is in full meltdown mode by the time Fiona and Lip walk in. Everyone is shouting and cursing at each other, Mickey’s wife looks like she’s going to kill someone and Mickey looks like he’s completely unraveled.

Before she leaves, Fiona walks over to Mickey and puts a hand on his shoulder, “We’ll find him, Mickey, I promise. Both of them.”

Mickey just nods and walks away, she’s not sure if it was any comfort after all.

 

 

-

 

 

_“Can’t answer, leave a message.”_

“Hey Ian,” Fiona says brightly, “I know you’re scared but we’re all scared too, okay? I hope you’re okay, and that little Yevgeny is okay too. I’m sure you’re taking care of him, I know you will.” Her voice is cracking and she grips her phone a little tighter, “Just give one of us a call back, alright? We all love you so much and we’re just really worried about you.”

She ends the call, sits on her bed for maybe a minute, and then she’s calling again.

_“Can’t answer, leave a message.”_

“Hey Ian,” she tries to say it just as brightly as the first time, but with each message it gets harder.

 

 

-

 

 

“I love you,” he whispers it into her hair, her shoulder, her lips.

And Fiona can’t stop herself, doesn’t even want to stop herself.

She feels so lost and confused and empty. Talking to Jimmy is so easy; being with Jimmy is so easy. Gus used to feel like a natural progression, but he’s not. Jimmy knows Fiona, knows her life, knows the Gallagher’s. He gets them all, loved them all, he fought with them and lived with them.

Being with Jimmy is natural. It’s warm and comforting, she feels like his words and his hands are putting her back together and making her finally feel whole again.

“I love you,” she whispers back, clutching him closely and trying not to think too much.

 

 

-

 

 

Jimmy comes over again the next night.

Maybe she thinks too much then.

It ends with her crying on the kitchen floor, reminded of his empty words and empty promises.

She’s only been married for a week.

 

 

-

 

 

Angela walks into the diner and for the first time in the months that Fiona’s known her, she doesn’t feel like smiling.

She storms over to the table, snapping, “you sleeping with Jimmy?”

“He’s not my type, you’re my type.”

Fiona forgot how fucking charming she could be, but it doesn’t work now. Angela can’t be a constant anymore; she can’t be a piece of Fiona’s stability, because she’s a package deal with the least dependable piece of shit in the world.

Angela leaves for probably the last time and Fiona tells herself she won’t be missed.

 

 

-

 

 

Ian’s drowsy and out of it, Fiona almost feels like they’re taking advantage of him when he signs in for the 72-hour hold. He needs this though, he needs to get medication and get better - or as close to better as he can be.

She remembers watching Monica sign in, year after year, looking just as drowsy and sedated. Walking through white halls, being led away by nurses and swearing this time it will be okay. It’s eerie to watch Ian follow her footprints.

“Ian Gallagher?” They call him and Fiona sees just a flash of fear in Ian’s eyes.

She tries to stay close, watches him kiss Yevgeny on the head and then hesitates in front of Mickey before turning away. She rubs a hand on his back, trying to act as a small form of comfort.

Mickey brushes past her, wrapping himself around Ian and clinging tightly. Fiona almost feels like she’s intruding, but after all the months of secretly wishing that Ian didn’t have Mickey, she’s never been happier that he does.

Mickey seems to comfort Ian more than Fiona would ever be able to - more than any of them would.

Ian walks through the caged door a moment later, smiling tightly and waving goodbye one last time before he’s through another door and out of sight.

It still takes them all a second before they stop staring at the door, stop willing for Ian to come back through and tell them it’s some really fucked up joke.

 

 

-

 

 

It’s barely noon but Fiona’s exhausted when they get back to the house. Lip walks in behind her, sends Carl and Debbie upstairs to sleep. Fiona looks around the house; it’s quiet and empty - feels chilling.

“Where’s Liam?” Fiona asks, only then realizing that none of them were here to watch him.

“Sammi,” Lip answers, flippantly as if this is something Fiona should know. She frowns and follows Lip into the kitchen. She needs coffee or maybe a beer.

They don’t talk much. Fiona knows what Lip is thinking, the same thing she’s thinking: the shattered small bit of hope that Ian wasn’t bipolar, the ache at seeing their little brother walking away from them and locking himself away.

She never wanted this - not for Ian, not for any of them.

“Carl’s dealing drugs,” Lip says to break the silence, “I think, at least, since he had a pound of weed on him.”

Fiona runs her fingers through her hair, thinking about Ian in the hospital, Sammi babysitting Liam, and Carl dealing fucking drugs.

“What the fuck,” she hisses quietly. Her eyes are burning from lack of sleep and the need to cry is becoming overwhelming.

Carl has always been a little crazy, a bit odd, and a lot violent. She always figured he would be get himself in shit when he got older, probably get in trouble with the law a couple times - no worse than Lip though (the fucking genius who ended up with a record long enough that he should have gone to juvie at least once - the community service was bullshit). But Fiona had always seen how soft and sweet Carl could be too.

Not to everyone, but to the family.

She thinks of all the times he would hug her, hold her hand, or bring home flowers for her that he’d plucked from one of the neighbour’s gardens.

And now he’s selling drugs.

“You think if we tell him to stop he’ll throw it back in our faces?” Fiona asks, knowing that Carl is more than aware of the many times both Fiona and especially Lip used to deal.

“Nah,” Lip says and breathes in deeply, “doesn’t mean he’ll listen though.”

Fiona starts the coffee maker, keeping her gaze down and trying to make up a game plan, but all she can think is that even after all her and Lip and Ian did to make sure this was the kind of shit her little siblings didn’t end up doing, Carl’s still doing it.

And she feels like a fucking disappointment.

 

 

-

 

 

Fiona goes with Mickey to visit Ian. 

The visit doesn’t last long, and Ian doesn’t seem like he actually knows they are there. It’s hard to see him like that, too much like Monica for Fiona’s tastes.

It’s harder on Mickey; he’s gone before the door closes behind Ian.

Fiona stands in the hospital a bit longer, breathing in and keeping herself calm. She wonders if Mickey realizes how hard this will be. He has no idea what he’s up against and he’s been proving it for months. He’s in over his head and he’s drowning.

Fiona thinks she might be in over her head this time too.

With Monica it was different, because with Monica she always had Ian and Lip at her back.

She doesn’t have them anymore.

 

 

-

 

 

“Fi, Fi, Fi!” Liam chants as Fiona circles around the counter at the diner. He’s sitting and coloring, drawing his own picture instead of filling in the lines.

Fiona pauses and looks down, “what’s going on, buddy?”

He points down at the page but doesn’t say another word, grins when Fiona pauses to admire the mix of crappy diner crayon colors. It looks like a bit of a blob, but the blob kind of looks like two people.

It’s her and Liam, holding hands.

It’s pretty good for a four year old, actually. Fiona looks so much bigger in the picture, happier and stronger. She briefly wonders if Liam ever thinks of that night on her birthday, if that’s something that someday she’ll see in his drawings.

“Wow, Liam, that’s really great,” She grins and kisses his forehead, “I’ll put it up on the fridge when we get home.”

Then she turns, walks to the kitchen and has to stop, takes three deep breathes before she can start going again.

 

 

-

 

 

Gus doesn’t take it well when she tells him about Jimmy. She didn’t expect him to, knew that it would rough, but he isn’t the type of angry she’s used to. It’s just another one of the glaring differences between herself and Gus.

She’s used to screaming, throwing things, tears and then fucking until you can’t walk.

Gus doesn’t do that, all he asks is to meet Jimmy, and despite the fact that Fiona knows it’s a bad idea she sets up a dinner for the three of them.

When Jimmy is punched in the face, it goes about exactly as well as she thought it would. And she almost laughs because there is the anger she’s used to, there is the breaking point, and finally they can start to move forward.

Fiona follows him outside, adds fuel to the fire, “I thought you just wanted to talk!”

“I did,” he agrees, looks distressed and claims it was Jimmy’s fucking smug face. Fiona gets it, that smirk Jimmy has is constantly asking to be smacked.

But then it takes a turn, then Gus is telling her he can’t do this. He’s distressed and sad and leaving - it all feels too familiar.

 

 

-

 

 

She thought sleeping with Mike’s brother was the worst thing she could do to someone.

Later that night she proved herself wrong.

Proved herself destructive.

 

 

-

 

 

Jimmy is the only guy Fiona has truly loved.

She doesn’t even need to consider whether it’s true or not, because she just knows it. She knows that she’s never laughed louder, smiled more, trusted someone as much, or craved a person’s touch like his. There isn’t a second of doubt in her mind that Jimmy is the love of her life.

Because he is.

If she believed in soulmates, he would be it.

But there’s another side to that love - the kind that aches and tingles and vibrates through your fucking body and mind - and it hurts so much that it could kill.

She remembers happiness, yes, but she also remembers all the pain. She’s never cried more, never hurt more, never felt so betrayed.

Fiona loves Jimmy, God, for some stupid reason she still just loves him so much. And she wants to be with him, it would feel so right just to fall right back into his arms, like she could fucking breathe again. She feels like everything is falling apart in her life, and she fucking needs him.

But she’s needed him for months now and he wasn’t there.

“I need you to let me go,” Fiona says instead, “I need you to let me let you go.”

Because true love is toxic - Jimmy is toxic.

“Goodbye, Fiona Gallagher,” and he says her name so fondly and with so much adoration that she almost tells him not to go.

But then he’s driving away, and Fiona feels like what was left of the shattered remains of her heart just broke.

 

 

-

 

 

The phone rings six times before Charlie picks up and Fiona could almost cry with relief.

“It’s good to hear from you,” he says, voice still gruff but she can hear his smile. He asks her about Patsy’s Pies, how the staff is and if she’s getting along with Sean (he jokes that he can be a stubborn ass sometimes, so he gets it if she’s not). And then finally he asks the question she’s be dreading, “And how are you doing, kid?”

“I got married,” Fiona says, tears pricking at her eyes, “I knew him for a week and I married him.”

Blunt as always, all Charlie says is, “do you love him?”

“I thought I might, but I don’t know anymore.” She feels like she’s going to cry, sitting on the steps outside her house and clutching her cellphone so tightly it might break. “I think I’ve been fucking up a lot,” she whispers and wipes at her eyes, “I was doing good, you know, over the summer I was doing really good, I think. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore though; everything's just falling apart again. Ian’s bipolar, Debbie’s having sex, Carl’s selling drugs, Lip’s having to scam his way into College - fuck.”

She breaks then; she can’t help herself, tears flowing freely down her cheeks as she keeps letting out choked sobs. Charlie doesn’t say a word, just stays on the line and waits until she’s calmed down.

“How’s Liam?”

Liam, fuck, it’s seems like it’s been ages since she’s spent any time around him.

“Good.”

“You still taking care of him?”

“Sometimes,” Fiona answers, coughing and clearing her throat, “I work a lot, and I’m trying to make my marriage work, it’s hard sometimes.”

Charlie sighs deeply, “I’m sorry you’re having a rough time, kid, but you can’t pull this shit. We all fuck up sometimes, yeah, and right now - you are. It’s called a relapse, Fiona, which you can’t really afford to be doing.”

“I’m not doing drugs,” Fiona insists, her voice getting louder.

“That’s not what I mean. Look, do you remember what Gayle told you, back when you first got your job - just out of prison.”

“Don’t fuck up?” Fiona jokes dryly, feeling like the conversations turned into a lecture when all she really wanted was support.

“Don’t be a smartass, kid;” Charlie says and laughs lowly, “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Fiona thinks she might, but she’s feeling defiant now and doesn’t respond. A few seconds of silence pass before Charlie says he needs to go, that it’s been nice talking and he hopes she calls again.

Fiona hangs up, stays sitting on the steps out in the cold, she’s not sure she’s ready to go inside yet.

 

 

-

 

 

_“Prison isn’t the hard part; it’s getting back to your life.”_

That’s what Gayle had told her on the drive back home, fifteen minutes after she was released, and when Fiona was still convinced that she was going to be okay.

Now she knows she won’t be.

She steps through the door and into her family's house, and she realizes it’s not really her home. Because a home brings comfort and happiness, but all Fiona can see is Liam on the ground almost dead. She doesn’t feel safe surrounded by these walls - she feels like a monster.

She was getting better, she thinks. Possibly, for awhile, she was doing okay.

But now she barely recognizes her home and her siblings are scattered and she doesn’t even know why, or what’s happening. She took off, shrugged away the responsibility of being a guardian - a parent - and lost her family in the process.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

She looks down at the shiny gold band on her finger; wonders if it’s just a different kind of prison she’s chosen to hide in.

 

 

-

 

 

The Gallagher kids have grown up with cautionary tales for parents.

Don’t be Frank, Don’t be Monica.

Fiona thinks maybe she’s added a third.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr :)](http://meganwwrites.tumblr.com)


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